Perspective
by InzanityFirez
Summary: Because sometimes, it's nice to have some.  Sam gives his big brother a wake-up call, the way only a little Winchester brother can. Post S7x4.  Basically mild redemption and brotherly fluff.


The next Apocalypse had arrived. Evil sons of bitches so bad that God himself had locked them away were on the loose. Castiel, his best damned friend, _his brother_, was dead in a last-ditch effort to make things right. Just another friend without a grave, like Ellen and Jo, and Pastor Jim and Caleb. Sammy, his little brother, had wound up in Hell cleaning up Dean's messes, because no matter what Sam said-Dean had broken the first seal and he'd done it selfishly, if unknowingly. It didn't take an Egyptian God [although there had been one] to tell Dean he was guilty. Just looking in the mirror reminded him of everything he'd done and been, every life he'd failed to save, every life taken at his expense. And it reminded him of the black-eyed bastard he'd nearly become to save his own damned skin.

"Dean?"

Dean's gaze lifted from the glass of whiskey he'd been staring at with fixed intensity to his brother before him. Sam looked worried-again-and he forced himself to swallow the last bitter gulp before he set down his glass.

"Dude, you've been staring at that glass for like...an hour."

A mirthless smile curved Dean's lips. "Nah. We were having a staring contest." he replied with his usual lack of seriousness, until Sam's jaw clenched slightly and he came closer to stand before Dean and frown down at him.

"Dude. You're blocking my sun."

"It's nighttime, Dean."

"Okay, you're blocking my moonlight. Same difference."

"What's wrong with you, man? Seeing you like this..."

"Like _what_, Sam?" Dean growled as his green eyes lifted to meet the familiar brown eyes above him.

"I don't know, I guess...like Dad. Except that instead of sitting around moping when he got drunk, he'd go out and at least hunt something."

Dean tensed at the mention of his father before he rose to fix Sam with a glare. "What're you tryin' to say?"

Sam didn't rise to the bait and glare back, he looked back down at his brother calmly. "...I'm trying to say...I don't need Dad. But I do need my brother."

Dean's throat tightened at that, and it burned his insides worse than the whiskey. "Quit being such a girl, Samantha."

"Dean! I'm serious!"

Dean snorted. "So am I-s-shit!" Dean found himself punched in the stomach and he doubled over and stumbled, right into Sam's waiting arms. He righted himself quickly and shot Sam an angry glare. "What the_ Hell_, Sam?"

"If you weren't drunk, you might have blocked that."

"Probably not, since I don't expect my friggen brother to punch me!"

"Well I don't expect my brother to be a mopey drunk, either."

"What's with you? What brought this on?" Dean demanded. "'Cuz you've been fine till now."

"No, Dean, I haven't. But I haven't exactly been stable myself, either, so I wasn't going to bust your case when mine was still all over the place."

"And you think it's better now? You see Lucifer when you brush your friggen teeth!"

Sam's eyes didn't leave Dean's, but he visibly flinched a little. When he spoke again, it quietly. "I've still got a long ways to go, but I'm trying, Dean. I'm just asking you to do the same. If I'm gonna better, I need...my big brother."

Frustration filled Dean's eyes at the same time he slammed his hand on the table and turned away. "Damnit, Sam! You..._damnit_!" Sam watched the little tirade in silence before Dean gave a mirthless chuckle, and when he looked back at Sam, his green eyes were tired, and a litte lost. "What do you want me to do, man? I'm tired. I can't save you, Sammy, I've tried. Believe me. And I sure as Hell can't save myself. And these Leviathons...this is it...we got nothin, Sam."

Sam watched his brother for a long moment before he came forward and set his hand on Dean's shoulder. "Maybe you're right and we're screwed. Still, I don't know about you, but...I'd like to go out fighting. With my brother."

Dean's brow furrowed slightly and his jaw tightened as those words hit him. He had no idea what had gotten into Sam. Dean had a feeling that Osiris' little show-and-tell might have spurred it on, but truth be told, he'd seen Sam's worried glances and his telling gestures of displeasure for awhile, and he'd chosen to ignore them.

But he couldn't ignore this.

Dean hesitated and then lifted his hand to Sam's shoulder in turn, and he gave it a firm squeeze. Sam's lips curved into a smile, and damned if those puppy-eyes weren't almost sickeningly happy at just that bit of affection from Dean. Had he really been that much of a dick? Sam had to have been more worried than he realized, or maybe Dean had been worse than he'd thought...

"I still think you're girly as Hell, but...yeah, I guess going out fighting is the Winchester way." Some would call it 'sacrifice' but Dean wasn't much for wordplay. He was more of an action kind of guy. "So...look, Sammy, I can't be a hero, I'm not gonna be. But...I am your big brother, and you're my pain in the ass little brother, no matter what. If we go down, we go down together." Dean said firmly.

Sam's smile widened and he lowered his hand to Dean's shoulder a bit as he gave it a squeeze in turn. "Thanks, Dean."

Dean's lips curved into something like a smile, and his green eyes had softened. For the first time in months, they didn't look so haunted. He shrugged off Sam's hand and lowered his own. "Yeah, yeah. Don't mention it, bitch." he paused before he added. "Really. This never happened." Dean warned.

Sam grinned faintly. "I thought you'd say that, jerk, so I recorded the whole thing."

"You son of a-"

"Kidding, Dean, kidding."

Dean just shook his head and muttered something about 'pain in the ass' as he reached for the whiskey bottle. Sam's grin faded until he saw Dean head over to the trashcan and after a moment, very deliberately drop it in.

Green eyes met brown, and understanding passed between the brothers.

They weren't perfect. They'd been to Hell and back. They'd saved the world and helped almost end it. They'd saved lives and taken them. They'd betrayed other, and sacrificed themselves for each other. They were beat to Hell and broken, and both of them were hurting in their own ways, but one thing remained unchanged. Despite all the crap between them, there was something that no evil sons of bitches, no dicks-with-wings, black-eyed skanks, or any other assclown that they'd cross could change.

They were Winchesters, brothers: and as much a weakness as it could be, it was also their greatest strength. Even if there were no other reasons to fight, they would still have each other. And Dean, for the first time in too damned long, was remembering clearly what Sammy had apparently never forgot, and truth be told, neither had Dean.

Sometimes it was nice to have a little perspective.

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**This was supposed to be my first attempt at a drabble. But I'm no good at writing small. The word 'perspective' popped into my head and this story ended up sort of writing itself because of it. XD And it is definitely not a drabble, but it is sweet, brotherly love. Set sometime after S7x4. Please enjoy, and leave me verbal hugs and such! Because I will adore endlessly. And will be inspired to make more brotherly love in the future. XD Or something. XD -Witchy~**


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